


His Training

by vi_violetrose



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: :), A few other characters appear but they're not worth tagging for how little they're there, Angst, M/M, no specific route, not super shippy but it's there, support conversation spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-10-01 18:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20359063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vi_violetrose/pseuds/vi_violetrose
Summary: Ever so focused on training, Felix fails to remember what's really important to him.





	His Training

If you ever needed Felix, you’d check the training grounds.

He was always there, hacking away at some lifeless dummy to practice precision and build endurance, or sparring with others if he decided they were worth his time. Not a lot of them were; but training with a dummy alone wasn’t perfect practice. It was terrible that he was becoming desperate for training partners. This was the esteemed Officer’s Academy—but on the other side of that coin, there were a lot of snobby nobles here. People like that, who talked of being gallant knights, and put half their effort into building charisma alone... Disgusting. They were all just a waste of oxygen.

Felix sighed before he pointed to the man across the grounds. “You. Spar with me.”

He’d already rolled his eyes beforehand to prepare for the expected response. “Why, I am Ferdinand von Aegir. If you think you are up to the challenge, I will gladly accept; but know that I am more talented than anyone in my class—“

“Shut up.” How many times would he have to hear this man’s name? “Ready your weapon, and let’s go.”

“If I must prove to you my skill through my actions, then I will not object.” Ferdinand smiled in a way that should’ve been a smirk, but was too friendly to count as such. He sure looked ready to win. “You will see the skill of House Aegir’s eldest son!”

That alone was enough to get Felix fired up. What was this guy’s problem? 

The weapons were made for training, as were the grounds; nothing about this sparring match felt like war, in the end. In actual battle, you had to kill indiscriminately. Harboring anger or any sort of personal feelings toward an enemy was only going to be a burden. Even worse, one might feel happy after killing their opponent in that case.

Felix quickly let his annoyance with this man fade from his mind. He was just an enemy that had to be cut down. Personal feelings... How stupid of him.

The only thoughts that ran through his mind were where to hit, where to dodge, where to step—if all of this counted as dancing, then Felix was a damn good dancer. But his movements were not driven by feeling, nor adrenaline; they were calculated, using a formula made to create a victory. Perhaps he was no dancer; dancers told stories in their movements. The only story that could be found in the way Felix moved was that he wanted to win.

Felix never watched his opponent’s eyes. He didn’t like making eye contact, ever, and there was even less reason to in a fight. It made more sense to watch the shoulders, the knees... The points that could portend the next move. But he wasn’t an idiot. Focusing on one detail made it impossible to see the bigger picture. 

The match ended when Felix thrust his weapon forward, the tip of the sword pushing Ferdinand back.

“Easy.”

Ferdinand shook his head, lowering his lance and confidently putting a hand on his hip. “A good match. I mean no ill will to your skill, but that was simply a fluke. The eldest son of House Aegir would never lose so easily.”

“You just did.” Felix’s words were curt. “Your name doesn’t matter in a fight. Most enemies you fight don’t know your name, nor do they care to learn it. And it’s stupid to remedy that by announcing yourself every damn second.” He scowled, looking down at his hands to avoid eye contact.

“I’m proud, Felix. Proud of who I am.” The reply was certainly unwonted. “I am a noble, so I must take pride in this! It is my duty to protect the people, and failure to acknowledge this would make me no noble.” There was the noble garbage again. The response wasn’t so surprising, after all.

“What does that have to do with training?” 

“It has everything to do with training,” Ferdinand replied. Felix scowled, evidently regretting asking. “My duty as a noble is the reason I train.”

“You know what?” Asked Felix. “I don’t care. We all have our reasons, but it doesn’t do any of us good to know all of them. Talking doesn’t help achieve them.”

Felix looked down and tightened his grip on his sword. In truth, it hurt; he could feel all the callouses on his hand, rubbing against the sword’s handle. He always had naturally dry hands, so they were rough from training. His hands weren’t suited to softer things.

But he wasn’t an idiot. He would take a break, for now.

“Have fun doing your ‘noble duty.’” Felix scoffed at the other man as he left the grounds.

\-------------------------------------------------

It was no surprise to see Caspar and Raphael in the dining hall. The latter had more or less made the place his domain, just as Felix did with the training grounds. They had their places to be.

“Hey, Felix! What’s up?”

Felix scowled. His place wasn’t in the company of Sylvain.

“What do you want?”

“Now? Just to say hello.” He leisurely placed his hands behind his head, elbows in the air. He smiled charmingly; annoyingly. “It’s good to see you. Care to join me for some food? I was a little distracted chatting up the ladies; actually eating slipped my mind.”

“Fine.” Felix shook his head. “But don’t expect me to talk to any women.”

“Aw, alright. You can be my wingman, then.” Sylvain narrowed the distance between the two of them and put a hand on Felix’s shoulder, which was promptly pushed off.

“I’m not going to be your anything. I’ll just eat alone if you insist on going with girls.” Felix turned around, but Sylvain followed.

“Alright, alright, I won’t bring anyone else. It’ll be just the two of us.” Felix could feel Sylvain winking at him, and he hated it. But he shook his head and sighed.

“It’s not often I get time alone with you anymore, is it?” Pink tinged his cheeks, and he quickly continued, “Not that that’s a bad thing, though.”

“Ouch.” Sylvain laughed, again putting a hand on Felix’s shoulder (and again having it pushed off). “I know you’re real serious about your training, but is spending time with me really so terrible?”

“It is.” Felix crossed his arms with a frown. “You’re a distraction and a nuisance.”

Sylvain smiled disappointedly. Somehow, his disappointment felt fake, but his smile did as well. “Hey, I’ll actually train with you every now and then. I’m not so bad as a training partner, am I?"

“No. You’re not.” Felix didn’t elaborate, and he wasn’t going to. “If only you trained more.”

“Sorry, Felix, but I have a life.” The smile and laugh that followed earned a scowl in return. Sylvain’s smile and Felix’s frown were a pair, just as the two were themselves. “You’re young. Don’t you ever want to go out and do stuff? Fun stuff.”

“_‘Fun’_ doesn’t help better my skills as a swordsman.” He spoke sharply, hoping that Sylvain wouldn’t continue to prattle him with talk of nonsense. He had to make him shut up before he started talking about women again. “Age isn’t a reason to be an idiot. And if you think it is, then you’re breaking your own rules; aren’t you 20, now? Grow up.”

“Yikes. You’re starting to sound like Ingrid.” Sylvain awkwardly scratched his head. It was evident that Ingrid had yelled at him earlier, and that it was well deserved. “Alright, I’ll train with you later. Okay?”

Felix smiled, ever so slightly, and nodded. “Alright.”

\-------------------------------------------------

Felix could feel the skin on his hands cracking. Surely his hands were going to start bleeding soon, but it wasn’t like that had never happened before. He couldn’t afford to slack on his training, so he’d bear the pain. It was nothing compared to the injuries sustained in actual fights, anyway.

“Hey, Felix.” Sylvain was nearly out of breath, but he knew well how to make it sound like he wasn’t when he spoke. “How about we call it a day? Your hands are shaking.”

Sylvain was right, but Felix didn’t want to admit it. He hated that he was correct. But Felix couldn’t deny it, and loosened his grip on his sword, lowering it until the tip touched the ground. His gaze followed it, looking downward. He wanted to say something, but no reply came to him.

“Felix, are you alright?” Sylvain had done away with his cheerful tone. Felix hated when he did that; it was intimate and genuine, and he was never good with all of that. But it was… nice, to see Sylvain be himself every now and then. To not be the idiot he pretended to be. 

“I’m fine.” Felix refused to raise his head. He hated making eye contact.

“Come on. Tell me the truth.” Sylvain dropped his weapon and approached Felix, carefully putting a hand on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t overdo it. I know you want to train, but I think you’re forcing yourself today. It’s okay to have off days, you know?” Felix shrugged off Sylvain’s hand and raised his head, begrudgingly, to look at him.

“What if we had to go to battle on one of those ‘off days’? Are you just going to accept that you’re underperforming, and watch from the sidelines?” Feilx tightened his grip on his sword, the handle almost digging into his broken skin. “People need our strength. I can’t fail to offer it.” 

Sylvain was quiet, for a moment. That was always weird. And when he did speak, he spoke softly. “It’s okay to be weak sometimes. You can’t go marching into battle if you break your arm.”

“I know that. I’m not stupid.” Felix huffed, and even though the statement annoyed him, he knew what Sylvain was getting at. “I don’t intend on breaking anything of mine.”

“Great! Then let’s call it a day.” Sylvain’s voice rose with a smile, and he offered a hand.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Felix shook his head, but he stopped when he felt a drop on his head. Gazing up, the sky was painted gray.

“Hah! You were saying?” Sylvain chuckled, lapsing back into the cheery him. “I’m not letting you stay out here if it’s going to rain. Let’s hurry back to the dorms.”

Felix rolled his eyes, but made to put the training weapons away (including the one Sylvain had so carelessly thrown on the ground like an idiot). “You know, we can’t control the weather. If it rains during battle, we can’t just--”

“But we’re not in battle. Training isn’t a perfect practice, I know, but it’s not worth making yourself sick over.” Sylvain grabbed Felix’s wrist and pulled him along out of the training grounds.

Ugh. If only, for once, Sylvain wasn’t right.

\-------------------------------------------------

When Felix woke up that morning, hands sore as hell, Sylvain was at the forefront of his mind. That man… ugh. He was so irritating, but he had helped him out yesterday, so maybe a thanks was due. Felix couldn’t imagine how his hands would feel if he had trained more than he had.

He turned his palms upward and looked down at them, his gaze running along every callus and bruise. To think that so much could be on his hands alone… it was strange. He really let them look like this? He was well due to wear gloves, but training without them would strengthen and toughen him. But it wasn’t as though he ever trained barefoot. 

Felix shook his head. The way he trained now was producing good results, so there was no need for change just now. For the time being, he’d just do things as always. 

He carelessly tied his hair back into its usual bun, loose strands of hair falling before Felix’s face. He couldn’t be bothered to retie his hair, so he left it as is. Somehow, he failed to make a perfect hair bun daily. But that didn’t matter; it wasn’t enough hair to block his vision, and he didn’t care if it looked messy.

It wasn’t long before he left his room, uniform on and sword in sheath. He looked to the side as he closed his door, always reminded as he left his room that the _boar_ was next to him.

_Hmph. I’m sure Dimitri’s already awake._ Felix stared at the door, which was still as ever, with no signs of moving any time soon. _Hopefully I’ll see him at the training grounds. If not, maybe I’ll come back here to kick his ass._

His eyes moved a little further down the hall, narrowing at the door on the end.

_Sylvain is definitely still asleep._ But what did that matter? It wasn’t his problem if Sylvain was slacking. 

Felix huffed and quickly made his way to the training grounds, where he’d continue on with his normal routine. Dimitri wasn’t there, but Felix wasn’t going anywhere.

\-------------------------------------------------

At night, Felix remained at the training grounds, but, to give his hands a break, he did weapon maintenance. He sighed.

“Why are you watching me?”

“Well, I came to watch you train.” The green-haired weirdo shook his head. What was his name again? “Not many students here have a major Crest. Yours is quite powerful, and, frankly, very… entertaining. Well, I quite enjoy seeing it in action. I would love to see you get your hands on a Relic.” He put a hand to his chin, probably thinking of some more nonsense.

“Whatever,” Felix muttered under his breath. He wasn’t going to bother asking for the man’s name. “What’s your deal with Crests, anyway? My strength comes from my training.” 

“Your strength is a given, but it’s undeniable that your Crest grants you an advantage you would not otherwise have.” He shook his head, but he smiled. “Well, if you’re not going to train anymore, then I’m off.” His voice rose rather annoyingly as he said his farewell. “Good luck.”

Felix scoffed as he left. That man really spent all of his time doing stupid research, and when he wasn’t… well, it really seemed like he never wasn’t. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he had no interest in friendship, but Felix knew for certain that he was, somehow, friends with Caspar. That little midget was always babbling about how weird his friend was whenever he came to the training grounds. Always “Linhardt is such a jerk, he thinks this and that,” or “Man, my buddy Linhardt is a real genius! I’m gonna try out some new techniques he suggested to me!” Felix could hear the squeaky voice in his head perfectly.

_Hm… Linhardt._ That was that weirdo’s name. 

Felix thought on it for awhile, mindlessly polishing the sword in his hands. Linhardt spent all his time on research… and he was one of the younger students, if Felix remembered correctly. Why would he waste so much time on research? Well, maybe not waste, but it felt like… overkill. He didn’t spend much time with anyone leisurely, nor did he seem to care. He kept to his research and himself. 

Linhardt… was like him. Felix kept to his training and to himself.

But that wasn’t the same thing. Felix huffed. Some stupid research wasn’t the same as training, honing skills and strengthening oneself every day without failure. Research could be stopped at any time, and to continue it after a year would only be a little troubling. To stop training and to resume after a year would warrant an extra year just to catch up to previous strength. Besides… the skies only grew grayer with the passing days, the clouds portending a war-torn sky.

_I can’t get war off of my mind. It’s so stupid to think about now; all it does is make me feel like I worry too much. But... I can feel it coming._ Felix sighed, gazing at a cloudless and starry night sky. It felt crisp and clear to him, the troubling feeling in his stomach; peace wasn’t going to last. The Kingdom was on the verge of collapse. Quiet, starry nights were going to be far and few, so he sat in silence and watched. 

He knew what he had to do. He had to train; he had to get stronger.

\-------------------------------------------------

“You only think about food, don’t you?”

“Felix, I’m tired of having this conversation. It’s not true; and besides, all _you_ ever think about is training!”

Felix grinned. “At least training won’t make you fat.” 

Ingrid just about slapped him, but Sylvain protruded into the conversation, and all thoughts of beating up Felix turned into thoughts of beating up Sylvain.

“Hey, you two! Mind if I join the conversation?” He laughed, aware that Ingrid was seconds away from getting angry. It seemed as though he’d take the hit for Felix.

“If you’re going to make fun of me, too, you’re better off not joining.” Ingrid shoveled food into her mouth with a frown. “I don’t see what the problem with eating is. You need a good diet to sustain you, especially with all the training we do.” She lifted her gaze and glared. “You especially, Felix.”

Felix rolled his eyes, bringing his gaze to Raphael, far down the hall, who looked to have about five plates’ worth of food on one. “It’d slow me down if I put on too much weight. The amount I eat now is fine.”

“Hey, no one’s asking you to be a hunk.” Sylvain leaned forward and winked. “Though, I think the ladies would like that.”

Ingrid elbowed him in the side and continued. “I don’t think you’re eating enough. I’m just a little worried.”

“Why are you worried? I’m not an idiot. I know my limits, and I definitely know them better than you do.” Felix crossed his arms indignantly. “If there’s anyone’s habits that should worry you, it’s Sylvain’s.”

“Hey, they’re not _that_ bad,” retorted Sylvain. “I think it’d do both of you some good to be a little more relaxed, you know? Both of you are gonna have so many wrinkles from all that frowning.” The statement, however, only earned him frowns from both of his friends.

“Just stop for a moment and think. The three of us are having lunch together! Nothing better than that, right?” Sylvain smiled brightly, hoping it would be contagious. “Besides having lunch with ladies.” 

Ingrid elbowed him again, but a lot harder than before. “_I’m here,_ you know.”

“I think It’s better that he doesn’t see you as a plaything,” remarked Felix. “But it comes at the expense of your womanhood.” He laughed a little, earning him a light slap from across the table.

“Both of you are terrible!” Ingrid huffed, though the laughter from the other two caught on quickly, and she softened up. “I never know what to do with you two, really.”

“Maybe not yell at us?” suggested Felix.

“And don’t hit me?” added Sylvain.

Ingrid shook her head. “Maybe if you two stop getting into trouble.” But she smiled. “This is kind of like the old days, isn’t it? I’m almost happy that you two are giving me reasons to set you straight.”

“Is that so?” Sylvain’s grin and tone led to Ingrid slapping him on the arm right after.

“I’m definitely not encouraging it!”

Felix couldn’t help but smile as Ingrid and Sylvain fought on the other side of the table. He could forget all about his training when they were all together like this. But it wasn’t the same as when they were children. 

Dimitri wasn’t here, and it was better that way. Yet, Felix couldn’t help but feel a little melancholic at his absence; he couldn’t ever go back to the way things were. He almost wished he had never seen the boar’s true self, but he knew it was better earlier than later. One of these days, Dimitri was going to snap.

...He didn’t have time to waste away the hours with friends.

Felix rose from his seat, quickly turning Ingrid and Sylvain’s attention to him.

“Where are you going?”

“Abandoning us again, Felix?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to train.”

“Alright,” replied Ingrid. There was a hint of disappointment in her voice; she was too sensitive. “I might join you later. See you.”

“Aw, man, really? Well, I guess I have no choice but to come along when Ingrid goes.” Sylvain laughed. “Alright, Felix, see you around. Take it easy, alright?”

He scoffed; too much worrying from both of them. He simply turned and left without a reply.

\-------------------------------------------------

The night was cloudy and starless, but it was quiet. 

Felix was alone in the training grounds at an unimaginably late time, but he wasn’t training. He was earlier, but he was shaking; every limb and every bone were shaken, ridden with thoughts of war.

He was right. There was going to be a war.

No matter how badly he wanted to swing a sword, the shaking wouldn’t cease. So he sat on the ground, knees drawn to his chest, but his hand still loosely wrapped around the hilt of a sword. He couldn’t give up… he wasn’t weak. But if he was being honest with himself, he was scared.

The sky offered no solace, clouds blocking any stars that might’ve been there to guide him. Felix was alone, in company of only the moon.

Now that there was going to be a war (or, technically, there already was one), he couldn’t afford to slack on his training. Felix slowly rose to his feet, tightening his grip on his sword. 

_I have to fight._

He swung his sword, hacking away at a training dummy with full force. With every hit, he felt a pounding in his head. But that wasn’t going to stop him. 

_Nothing else._

\-------------------------------------------------

_“I’ll admit, seeing that smile on your face, I almost want to give you a hug. Almost.”_

_“A hug? Did you get hit on the head? Come on. Tell me you want to hug me again. I liked it.”_

_“I won’t be repeating it, you half-wit.”_

The conversation played out in Felix’s mind again as he lay in bed. Ugh, why did he say that? So stupid…

He definitely had better things to think about, but it wouldn’t leave his mind. Maybe if he had given in and hugged Sylvain, it wouldn’t bother him. His face immediately burned bright red at the thought, and he sat up abruptly, feeling too hot to remain under the blankets. 

_This doesn’t matter! Why is this bothering me so much?_ He looked down at his lap, covered by the blanket, and furrowed his brows. _Sylvain isn’t going to die. He promised… He promised he wouldn’t._ Before Felix realized it, tears had fallen onto the blanket.

_A promise isn’t going to stop him from dying. But it should. I won’t forgive him if he dies on me._ Felix clutched the blanket, holding back a sob. Hell, why was he crying? Sylvain wasn’t dead. But he was hurt, and… that terrified Felix. They had made it this far, and most of their friends were still alive… yet the possibility that any of them could die was still there. But for Sylvain… it couldn’t be. Felix couldn’t afford for that possibility to exist.

He had lost Glenn… and Dimitri. Well, Dimitri wasn’t dead, but the old him was. At this point, it would’ve been better if he had really died.

Felix still had Sylvain. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Ingrid that he had always been closer to Sylvain, but she probably knew. But all three of them had to live; Felix really didn’t want to lose Ingrid, either.

Maybe he should’ve given Sylvain that hug.

Felix lied back down, curling up and bringing the blankets close to him. He didn’t have time to worry about things like that; he just had to train. He had to be strong enough. If he were strong enough… Sylvain and Ingrid couldn’t possibly die. He would protect them. And, after the war, he could give Sylvain all the damn hugs he wanted.

\-------------------------------------------------

Back to the training grounds he was. 

Felix had bothered Linhardt into a sparring match, but, boy, was that utterly pointless. The man damn near fainted after one strike, and immediately left the grounds.

Felix couldn’t help but think of his many failed matches with Glenn. Was that how he looked to his brother? Absolutely no chance of winning… Even with the greatest luck on any given day, Linhardt could never possibly win a sparring match against Felix. Felix couldn’t remember his matches with Glenn too clearly, but he imagined that they were just like that match he had with Linhardt.

Glenn was the reason he wanted to be strong in the first place. Training over a corpse… it was stupid, but it had driven him to become as strong as he had, so it wasn’t the worst reason. But he had a new purpose, now. 

He had to protect his friends. He couldn’t lose them.

Felix was so caught up with training that he never did give Sylvain that hug.

\-------------------------------------------------

It was raining when it happened.

Though Felix was good with a bow, he didn’t have the sharpest eye; yet, when Sylvain fell, it was clearer than he ever wished it would be.

Everything after that was a blur. In a moment, Felix was at his side, desperately kneeling by him and lifting him off the ground. Sylvain weakly put a hand on Felix’s shoulder, clinging to him as if letting go would mean death.

“Hey… Felix. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep our promise.” Sylvain smiled, weakly, and Felix hated him for it. To smile at a time like this?

“Sylvain… You--You can’t. You can’t die.” Felix had lost sense of everything happening around him, but, frankly, if he landed an axe in his back, he could at least keep his promise. “No… Stop. Stop... dying.” He couldn’t control the tears, and discovered that day how much crying he was really capable of. Sylvain’s wound was too severe to be fixed with healing magic; even Felix knew enough to realize that. But, even then, there were no healers nearby. Felix didn’t want to tear his eyes away from Sylvain, but he looked up for a moment to see if there were any healers close enough.

He looked just in time to see Linhardt striked down. 

Felix never knew him well, and perhaps he wasn’t even killed by that hit, but the sight made him want to vomit. Especially with Sylvain here, it was a grim reminder.

“Felix… don’t try to keep your end of the promise. Okay?”

Felix could barely respond, lip trembling terribly. He pulled Sylvain towards him, weakly, and embraced him in a tight hug. 

“...Okay.”

Felix didn’t hold back anymore, and let himself sob. If this wasn’t the time to cry, then it never was. He hated for Sylvain to see him cry, but he couldn’t possibly smile now.

It wasn’t long before the hand on his shoulder let go.

Why had he waited so long to give Sylvain that damn hug? If he hadn’t run as fast as he had, he easily could have failed to give it to him at all.

There really were better things to think about than training. Spending time with others… If they lived through this fight, Ingrid wasn’t going to escape a hug. Hell… There was _no way_ Ingrid was going to die.

Despite the heavy feeling in his chest, Felix picked up his sword and left Sylvain on the ground. He had to be fast; he had to put his feelings to the side. What use was there in protecting a man who was already dead?

He hated it. He hated everything about this. 

Felix could barely see through the heavy rain, but he noticed Ingrid hurriedly hoisting Linhardt onto her pegasus. So, he was alive. Felix rushed to the two of them and helped Linhardt up; might as well help him while he still lived.

“Ingrid.” Felix’s voice was cracked completely, and tears were all over him, mingled with the raindrops. “We have to retreat. Sylvain is dead.”

All color in Ingrid’s face immediately vanished without a trace, but her expression quickly hardened. “We can’t leave. Let’s win this fight, Felix.” She soon departed to deliver Linhardt to safety, leaving Felix alone once more.

In the chaos of the battlefield, he had forgotten he had orders from the commander. Tightening the grip on his sword, he looked to the professor for instruction. He had to be strong, and continue fighting. 

As he was ordered to charge to the front lines, he glanced back at Sylvain.

He was fighting for a corpse again.

**Author's Note:**

> Heck yeah there's a ton of symbolism here, but I'm not going to explain it so you guys can have fun interpreting it!
> 
> I just wanted to write about Felix, because he's cool. 
> 
> Linhardt being in the fic was Not Bias, for sure, but I did find he was a good character to include for the purposes of the story. He's the fourth member of the Blue Lions childhood friend group now
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the Pain


End file.
